When the Storm Subsides (Vam) (3/?)
Title: When The Storm Subsides
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam, but that comes slightly later.
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: "Why aren't you being honest?"
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story and the things and people in it that I totally made up. Title and lyrics used belong to In This Moment. (In this chapter, some lyrics also belong to the Backstreet Boys. ...shut up.)
I've been driving through these nights
This road reminding me of all I am
As time drags on, these windows fade
And reality starts slipping from my mind
All I know is this all fades, the second that I'm by your side.
Friday morning arrived far too quickly. Despite the fact that my parents had kept me home from school all week, it was as if I'd blinked and suddenly it was nearly time for Jordan's funeral. Despite the deep seated numbness I felt, I refused to put on a suit and, instead, put on the dressiest non-dressy outfit I owned. The one that Jordan liked. It was just dark jeans and a long-sleeved red button-up shirt, but Jordan had totally adored it. "You look almost like a gentleman," he'd teased. That was the night we'd spent at the first school dance, tripping people and successfully spiking the punch. It was a good time, one I wouldn't soon forget.
"Are you nearly ready, Bam?" Ape asked, poking her head inside my bedroom. I looked at her reflection in the mirror next to my own and nodded, not trusting my voice. I knew if I tried to speak, I'd embarrass myself. Jordan's mom had asked me to speak at the funeral, and I'd agreed to do it. I felt that maybe if I saved my words for that moment, I wouldn't break down entirely in front of everyone. As Ape walked away, I slipped a hand into my pocket and pulled out the sheet of paper I'd written my speech on. I'd worked on it for two days, keeping it short and sweet and making sure it perfectly expressed my feelings (there's that obnoxious word again) without making everyone aware of what had gone on with Jordan and me. I felt I'd done a good job, that Jordan would be proud of me. That was all that mattered, wasn't it?
I left my bedroom and went downstairs, not acknowledging the sympathetic looks from my family. I slipped out the front door and waved to Novak, who was starting up the driveway to meet me.
"Hey," he said cautiously, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his dress pants. Any other day it would have been hilarious to see Novak in a suit and tie (which was green with polka dots, by the way), but I couldn't even crack a smile.
"Hey," I muttered, playing with the hem of my shirt. "How've you been?"
"Good," Novak said awkwardly. "Normal, I guess. How... how 'bout you? Any better?"
"A little," I lied, pulling out my speech again. "Jordan's mom wants me to speak at the funeral."
"Yeah?" Novak said, tilting his head to the side. "Are you going to?"
"Duh," I said, handing the paper to him. "I've been working on that for days now. I think it's good, don't you?" I watched nervously as Novak read the words I'd written neatly across the page, the final copy of my goodbye. His brow furrowed and he looked up at me.
"Why aren't you being honest?" he demanded. The question rang in the air for a moment, and I was unsure of what to say.
"About what?" I asked, taking the paper back. It was probably the most honest thing I'd ever written, in my opinion.
"You say he was your best friend," Novak said. "You know he was more than that, man."
"Wh-- this is his fucking funeral, Novak!" I whispered, folding the paper up and putting it back in my pocket. "I don't think he'd want to be outed at his funeral! And truthfully, neither do I!"
"Whatever," Novak shrugged. "I just think... this is Jordan, you know? He was a really open, honest dude. He didn't give a damn, he was who he was. He'd want you to carry on that attitude. I know he would."
"I think you're wrong," I said defiantly.
"Fine!" Novak said, backing away with his hands raised in a gesture of forfeit. "Just think about it, okay?" He walked away, presumably to catch a ride with one of our friends to the funeral home. I sat down on the steps, my brain doing that annoying whirling thing it had picked up after Jordan died. Would Jordan really want me to talk about "us" the way we were? We had always said, even to each other, that we were just friends. We knew it wasn't true, though. Sometimes I thought everyone knew.
"Let's go, Bam," Phil said, making me jump. I hadn't even noticed he, Ape, and Jess had come outside. I stood up and followed them to the car, staring at the pavement. I was about to open the door when I heard someone calling my name. I turned around to see Ville a few houses away, motioning for me to come over to him. I groaned inwardly and told Phil I'd just be a minute before jogging over to Ville's side.
"What could you possibly want today?" I asked through gritted teeth. This was definitely a waste of those words I had desperately been trying to save.
"Oh... is the funeral today?" Ville asked quietly as realization dawned.
"Yeah," I sighed, not having the heart to be sarcastic. He really hadn't known.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. Then he looked me up and down, his eyebrows knitted together. "You look sort of under-dressed, you know what I mean?"
"Jordan liked this outfit," I said defensively. Ville shrugged off his jacket, the same gothy one he'd been wearing the last time I'd seen him, and handed it to me.
"I like it too, but it would look better with this," he said, nodding appreciatively when I grudgingly pulled the jacket on. It smelled slightly like cigarettes and cinnamon. "Much better."
"Thanks," I muttered, glancing back at the car. Ape was watching from the passenger window like a hawk. "Look, I have to go. See you around."
"Right," Ville said softly. "Um... hang in there, okay?" I studied his face for a moment, surprised to see not sympathy, but something else. Something less obligatory, more... kind. It made a pleasant warmth momentarily fill the cold void that had settled in my chest. It terrified me. I turned quickly and ran back to the car, sliding in the back next to my brother. My heart was pounding in my chest and my hands were shaking. I just wished I could explain why.
I watched people from my school milling about, some crying, some merely looking sad. Others still were smiling and laughing, gossiping as if this were some kind of social event. I wanted to go yell at them, tell them that if they had no intention of paying their respects to Jordan, they could get the hell out. Ape put an arm around my shoulder, sensing my irritation, and steered me into another room.
"Don't mind them, Bam," she whispered. "They'll be gone soon out of boredom." I nodded, watching glumly as she moved on to talk to someone she recognized. I spotted Jess talking to a friend of his who had been close to Jordan's family. Phil was talking to Jordan's dad, who raised a solemn hand when he saw me. I nodded in return and walked into the next room, which had been filled with pictures of Jordan and his friends and family, arranged attractively next to the flower arrangements loved ones had sent to the funeral home. I had ordered one in secret days ago, the bouquet consisting of white roses and bleeding hearts, Jordan's favorite flowers. He actually planted some in the garden for Ape, since she was so useless at taking care of plants. The card with the bouquet simply read, "I love you. From: me." on pretty white and silver paper. It stood out among the rest of the arrangements, and I had to look away.
I moved to the other end of the room to look at a piece of posterboard covered with pictures. There were a few polaroids of Jordan and his mother when he was little, along with a few school pictures. further to the left was a photobooth strip, one I recognized with a pang of grief. It was the one I'd taken with Jordan after we'd been wreaking havoc at the local mall, just two weeks before he died. We were making goofy faces in most of them, except for the last one, where we'd disolved into giggles and were simply smiling so hard our eyes were nearly shut. I reached out and touched Jordan's face in that photo, wondering how it was possible that we'd been so happy when this horrible moment was looming just ahead...
"Bam?" someone said gently, and I turned to see Jordan's mom, Tracy, standing next to me. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked extremely tired. Even her hair, white blonde like her son's, seemed to shine less. "How are you, sweetie?"
"Um, okay," I replied, looking everywhere but her face. "You?"
"I've been better," she said with a choked laugh. "Have you... seen him yet?" I closed my eyes instinctively, as though she'd tried to slap me.
"N-no," I stuttered. "I haven't."
"There's nothing to be afraid of," she said shakily, putting a hand on my shoulder. "He looks... he looks fine. Like he's sleeping."
"I don't know if I can," I said, clenching and unclenching my fists. I couldn't lose it now.
"Well, when you're ready, he's right in there," Tracy pointed to the next room to the left. I could see the corner of the casket and more flowers through the sea of people all gathered inside.
"Okay," I said, fiddling with the cuff of Ville's jacket. I knew I'd have to go in eventually, but I wanted to wait until it would be just me. Just me and Jordan.
"Do you have your speech ready?" Tracy asked. I blinked, having almost forgotten that I would be speaking in a few minutes.
"Y-yeah," I said, pulling the paper out of my pocket yet again. "When will I be...?"
"You'll speak right after Father Gary," she said, her voice noticeably firmer. She was always more comfortable when explaining scheduling. She worked as a counselor at a Catholic high school, and she was the one in charge of settling matters of classes for the upcoming year for each student.
"Great," I said awkwardly. She gave me a sad smile before enveloping me in a tight hug.
"Jordan would be so pleased that you're doing this," she whispered, patting my back. "He really adored you, Bam." She pulled back and, sensing that I'd rather be saved the trouble of finding a response to that, walked away to talk to a couple of sniffling girls who were looking over the framed photos in the opposite corner of the room. I walked into the room where the sermon was about to begin, taking a seat next to Phil. He put his arm around me, but I shrugged it off. The more people tried to comfort me, the more unstable I felt. The priest walked up to the podium and spoke in a deep, soothing voice.
"We'll be starting in three minutes, so if everyone would please make their way in here and take a seat... thank you." He stepped back and gathered his Bible and some notecards, standing patiently as people filed in and took the remaining seats. Novak and Ryan Dunn came over and sat with me, while Dico gave me a wave and sat down with his parents two rows in front of mine. When everyone was seated, Father Gary stood back at the microphone and began.
"Brothers and sisters, it is with great sorrow that we are gathered here today, to mourn the passing of a young man lost far too soon..." It was somewhere around here that my brain tuned out the man's words. I didn't want to hear, didn't want to dwell on this until I had to.
The unfortunate disadvantage to tuning out a sermon is the fact that it seems to speed up. It seemed like Father Gary had just begun talking when everyone was saying "Amen" and the priest was explaining that I wanted to say a few words. My heart immediately leapt into my throat, and I stood shakily as my friends whispered variations of, "It's okay Bam." I walked up to the podium and swallowed thickly, my mind foggy. I flattened the piece of paper my speech was on against the shiny dark wood in front of me, took a deep breath, and started talking.
"I'm probably the last person anyone expected to see speaking at a funeral, right?" Several people chuckled softly, and I managed a smile.
"Jordan would have believed it. He was always telling me that I had a serious, emotional side of me. He said that just because I didn't show it, that didn't mean it wasn't there. Jordan could always see the things people hid. He was a tough person to fool. He was also the kind of person who could make you feel so good, like nothing in life could go wrong. Sometimes all it took was a smile from him in your general direction. Jordan was a genuine, caring person who loved his family and friends more than he loved anything. He loved deeply and was fiercely protective. He made you feel safe and adored, whether you were the richest kid at school or the girl who shopped at Goodwill. He made me feel like I could be real, like I could tell him anything." This was where I stopped. I looked up and met Novak's eyes, which were focused right on mine. He gave a slight nod and I took another deep gulp of air.
"I loved Jordan. He was more than my best friend." I was no longer following my written words. "We never labeled what we had, you know? We just knew that we were different, that we loved each other more deeply than most friends do. It hurts to say goodbye now, when we were just starting to figure things out." Tears were stinging my eyes now, and I just wanted to finish.
"Jordan," I said softly, looking up at the ceiling. "Wherever you are, man. I love you. I really do. More than I ever got to tell you." I stepped back quickly and walked out of the room, raising a hand as I left to acknowledge the earnest applause I was receiving. I walked almost blindly to the room where Jordan's body lay in the casket, and stopped in the doorway my heartbeat pounding in my ears. This was it.
I wiped away the tears that were sliding down my cheeks in a seemingly unstoppable flow and moved forward hesitantly, my eyes settled on Jordan's calm face. When I was next to the coffin, I could see that makeup had been applied to make him appear to have more color. I thought that was stupid, since he'd always been pale as death, even in life. I reached out a trembling hand and stroked his soft hair, the same way I had done a hundred times before. My fingers trailed to his cheek, but I quickly drew away. He was cold. Too cold.
"I miss you, J," I whispered, petting his hair again. "You haven't even been gone a week and I miss you so much..." If I had had more words to say, they would have been lost. My shoulders shook as I leaned against the casket, trying and failing to hold myself together. I felt a hand on my shoulder and spun quickly around to see Novak. He was smiling sadly.
"You did good, Bam," he said gently, pulling me into his arms. "You did good."
The ride home was unbearably awkward. Ape was trying to grill me for information ("I had no IDEA you loved him that way! Why didn't you say something? No wonder you've been so torn up about this!), Phil was trying to get her to pipe down, and Jess was just staring at me. Finally, fifteen minutes into the staring I snapped, "WHAT?!"
"You're gay!" Jess exclaimed. "All these years we've joked about it and you actually are gay!"
"Jess!" Ape shouted, turning around and looking at him sharply. "This is hardly the time for--"
"It's the perfect time! Bam just came out at a fucking FUNERAL!" Jess laughed. Ape sighed and turned around, covering her face with her hand.
"Look, I'm not gay, okay?" I said tartly, crossing my arms over my chest. "I loved Jordan, yeah. But he's the only one!" Jess wasn't convinced.
Neither was I.
That night, I climbed up on the roof and looked up at the clear night sky. I could see every star, and the moon shone bright straight overhead. It was fairly cold outside, but I hardly noticed. I was still wearing Ville's jacket, which was surprisingly warm. As I watched the skies, I heard singing down on the street. Remarkably good singing. I sat up and looked down past the streetlights and saw Ville. He was in the middle of the road, twirling around like a moron, singing "The One" by the fucking Backstreet Boys. He looked up at me, and even from far away, I could see him grinning. He waved at me and finished the song, his eyes never leaving mine.
"I'll be the one, to hold you, and make sure that you'll be all right... I'll be the one."
Maybe Jordan WASN'T the only one.
Author: breathe_misery.
Pairing: Vam, but that comes slightly later.
Rating: PG-13 - R
Summary: "Why aren't you being honest?"
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story and the things and people in it that I totally made up. Title and lyrics used belong to In This Moment. (In this chapter, some lyrics also belong to the Backstreet Boys. ...shut up.)
I've been driving through these nights
This road reminding me of all I am
As time drags on, these windows fade
And reality starts slipping from my mind
All I know is this all fades, the second that I'm by your side.
Friday morning arrived far too quickly. Despite the fact that my parents had kept me home from school all week, it was as if I'd blinked and suddenly it was nearly time for Jordan's funeral. Despite the deep seated numbness I felt, I refused to put on a suit and, instead, put on the dressiest non-dressy outfit I owned. The one that Jordan liked. It was just dark jeans and a long-sleeved red button-up shirt, but Jordan had totally adored it. "You look almost like a gentleman," he'd teased. That was the night we'd spent at the first school dance, tripping people and successfully spiking the punch. It was a good time, one I wouldn't soon forget.
"Are you nearly ready, Bam?" Ape asked, poking her head inside my bedroom. I looked at her reflection in the mirror next to my own and nodded, not trusting my voice. I knew if I tried to speak, I'd embarrass myself. Jordan's mom had asked me to speak at the funeral, and I'd agreed to do it. I felt that maybe if I saved my words for that moment, I wouldn't break down entirely in front of everyone. As Ape walked away, I slipped a hand into my pocket and pulled out the sheet of paper I'd written my speech on. I'd worked on it for two days, keeping it short and sweet and making sure it perfectly expressed my feelings (there's that obnoxious word again) without making everyone aware of what had gone on with Jordan and me. I felt I'd done a good job, that Jordan would be proud of me. That was all that mattered, wasn't it?
I left my bedroom and went downstairs, not acknowledging the sympathetic looks from my family. I slipped out the front door and waved to Novak, who was starting up the driveway to meet me.
"Hey," he said cautiously, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his dress pants. Any other day it would have been hilarious to see Novak in a suit and tie (which was green with polka dots, by the way), but I couldn't even crack a smile.
"Hey," I muttered, playing with the hem of my shirt. "How've you been?"
"Good," Novak said awkwardly. "Normal, I guess. How... how 'bout you? Any better?"
"A little," I lied, pulling out my speech again. "Jordan's mom wants me to speak at the funeral."
"Yeah?" Novak said, tilting his head to the side. "Are you going to?"
"Duh," I said, handing the paper to him. "I've been working on that for days now. I think it's good, don't you?" I watched nervously as Novak read the words I'd written neatly across the page, the final copy of my goodbye. His brow furrowed and he looked up at me.
"Why aren't you being honest?" he demanded. The question rang in the air for a moment, and I was unsure of what to say.
"About what?" I asked, taking the paper back. It was probably the most honest thing I'd ever written, in my opinion.
"You say he was your best friend," Novak said. "You know he was more than that, man."
"Wh-- this is his fucking funeral, Novak!" I whispered, folding the paper up and putting it back in my pocket. "I don't think he'd want to be outed at his funeral! And truthfully, neither do I!"
"Whatever," Novak shrugged. "I just think... this is Jordan, you know? He was a really open, honest dude. He didn't give a damn, he was who he was. He'd want you to carry on that attitude. I know he would."
"I think you're wrong," I said defiantly.
"Fine!" Novak said, backing away with his hands raised in a gesture of forfeit. "Just think about it, okay?" He walked away, presumably to catch a ride with one of our friends to the funeral home. I sat down on the steps, my brain doing that annoying whirling thing it had picked up after Jordan died. Would Jordan really want me to talk about "us" the way we were? We had always said, even to each other, that we were just friends. We knew it wasn't true, though. Sometimes I thought everyone knew.
"Let's go, Bam," Phil said, making me jump. I hadn't even noticed he, Ape, and Jess had come outside. I stood up and followed them to the car, staring at the pavement. I was about to open the door when I heard someone calling my name. I turned around to see Ville a few houses away, motioning for me to come over to him. I groaned inwardly and told Phil I'd just be a minute before jogging over to Ville's side.
"What could you possibly want today?" I asked through gritted teeth. This was definitely a waste of those words I had desperately been trying to save.
"Oh... is the funeral today?" Ville asked quietly as realization dawned.
"Yeah," I sighed, not having the heart to be sarcastic. He really hadn't known.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. Then he looked me up and down, his eyebrows knitted together. "You look sort of under-dressed, you know what I mean?"
"Jordan liked this outfit," I said defensively. Ville shrugged off his jacket, the same gothy one he'd been wearing the last time I'd seen him, and handed it to me.
"I like it too, but it would look better with this," he said, nodding appreciatively when I grudgingly pulled the jacket on. It smelled slightly like cigarettes and cinnamon. "Much better."
"Thanks," I muttered, glancing back at the car. Ape was watching from the passenger window like a hawk. "Look, I have to go. See you around."
"Right," Ville said softly. "Um... hang in there, okay?" I studied his face for a moment, surprised to see not sympathy, but something else. Something less obligatory, more... kind. It made a pleasant warmth momentarily fill the cold void that had settled in my chest. It terrified me. I turned quickly and ran back to the car, sliding in the back next to my brother. My heart was pounding in my chest and my hands were shaking. I just wished I could explain why.
I watched people from my school milling about, some crying, some merely looking sad. Others still were smiling and laughing, gossiping as if this were some kind of social event. I wanted to go yell at them, tell them that if they had no intention of paying their respects to Jordan, they could get the hell out. Ape put an arm around my shoulder, sensing my irritation, and steered me into another room.
"Don't mind them, Bam," she whispered. "They'll be gone soon out of boredom." I nodded, watching glumly as she moved on to talk to someone she recognized. I spotted Jess talking to a friend of his who had been close to Jordan's family. Phil was talking to Jordan's dad, who raised a solemn hand when he saw me. I nodded in return and walked into the next room, which had been filled with pictures of Jordan and his friends and family, arranged attractively next to the flower arrangements loved ones had sent to the funeral home. I had ordered one in secret days ago, the bouquet consisting of white roses and bleeding hearts, Jordan's favorite flowers. He actually planted some in the garden for Ape, since she was so useless at taking care of plants. The card with the bouquet simply read, "I love you. From: me." on pretty white and silver paper. It stood out among the rest of the arrangements, and I had to look away.
I moved to the other end of the room to look at a piece of posterboard covered with pictures. There were a few polaroids of Jordan and his mother when he was little, along with a few school pictures. further to the left was a photobooth strip, one I recognized with a pang of grief. It was the one I'd taken with Jordan after we'd been wreaking havoc at the local mall, just two weeks before he died. We were making goofy faces in most of them, except for the last one, where we'd disolved into giggles and were simply smiling so hard our eyes were nearly shut. I reached out and touched Jordan's face in that photo, wondering how it was possible that we'd been so happy when this horrible moment was looming just ahead...
"Bam?" someone said gently, and I turned to see Jordan's mom, Tracy, standing next to me. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked extremely tired. Even her hair, white blonde like her son's, seemed to shine less. "How are you, sweetie?"
"Um, okay," I replied, looking everywhere but her face. "You?"
"I've been better," she said with a choked laugh. "Have you... seen him yet?" I closed my eyes instinctively, as though she'd tried to slap me.
"N-no," I stuttered. "I haven't."
"There's nothing to be afraid of," she said shakily, putting a hand on my shoulder. "He looks... he looks fine. Like he's sleeping."
"I don't know if I can," I said, clenching and unclenching my fists. I couldn't lose it now.
"Well, when you're ready, he's right in there," Tracy pointed to the next room to the left. I could see the corner of the casket and more flowers through the sea of people all gathered inside.
"Okay," I said, fiddling with the cuff of Ville's jacket. I knew I'd have to go in eventually, but I wanted to wait until it would be just me. Just me and Jordan.
"Do you have your speech ready?" Tracy asked. I blinked, having almost forgotten that I would be speaking in a few minutes.
"Y-yeah," I said, pulling the paper out of my pocket yet again. "When will I be...?"
"You'll speak right after Father Gary," she said, her voice noticeably firmer. She was always more comfortable when explaining scheduling. She worked as a counselor at a Catholic high school, and she was the one in charge of settling matters of classes for the upcoming year for each student.
"Great," I said awkwardly. She gave me a sad smile before enveloping me in a tight hug.
"Jordan would be so pleased that you're doing this," she whispered, patting my back. "He really adored you, Bam." She pulled back and, sensing that I'd rather be saved the trouble of finding a response to that, walked away to talk to a couple of sniffling girls who were looking over the framed photos in the opposite corner of the room. I walked into the room where the sermon was about to begin, taking a seat next to Phil. He put his arm around me, but I shrugged it off. The more people tried to comfort me, the more unstable I felt. The priest walked up to the podium and spoke in a deep, soothing voice.
"We'll be starting in three minutes, so if everyone would please make their way in here and take a seat... thank you." He stepped back and gathered his Bible and some notecards, standing patiently as people filed in and took the remaining seats. Novak and Ryan Dunn came over and sat with me, while Dico gave me a wave and sat down with his parents two rows in front of mine. When everyone was seated, Father Gary stood back at the microphone and began.
"Brothers and sisters, it is with great sorrow that we are gathered here today, to mourn the passing of a young man lost far too soon..." It was somewhere around here that my brain tuned out the man's words. I didn't want to hear, didn't want to dwell on this until I had to.
The unfortunate disadvantage to tuning out a sermon is the fact that it seems to speed up. It seemed like Father Gary had just begun talking when everyone was saying "Amen" and the priest was explaining that I wanted to say a few words. My heart immediately leapt into my throat, and I stood shakily as my friends whispered variations of, "It's okay Bam." I walked up to the podium and swallowed thickly, my mind foggy. I flattened the piece of paper my speech was on against the shiny dark wood in front of me, took a deep breath, and started talking.
"I'm probably the last person anyone expected to see speaking at a funeral, right?" Several people chuckled softly, and I managed a smile.
"Jordan would have believed it. He was always telling me that I had a serious, emotional side of me. He said that just because I didn't show it, that didn't mean it wasn't there. Jordan could always see the things people hid. He was a tough person to fool. He was also the kind of person who could make you feel so good, like nothing in life could go wrong. Sometimes all it took was a smile from him in your general direction. Jordan was a genuine, caring person who loved his family and friends more than he loved anything. He loved deeply and was fiercely protective. He made you feel safe and adored, whether you were the richest kid at school or the girl who shopped at Goodwill. He made me feel like I could be real, like I could tell him anything." This was where I stopped. I looked up and met Novak's eyes, which were focused right on mine. He gave a slight nod and I took another deep gulp of air.
"I loved Jordan. He was more than my best friend." I was no longer following my written words. "We never labeled what we had, you know? We just knew that we were different, that we loved each other more deeply than most friends do. It hurts to say goodbye now, when we were just starting to figure things out." Tears were stinging my eyes now, and I just wanted to finish.
"Jordan," I said softly, looking up at the ceiling. "Wherever you are, man. I love you. I really do. More than I ever got to tell you." I stepped back quickly and walked out of the room, raising a hand as I left to acknowledge the earnest applause I was receiving. I walked almost blindly to the room where Jordan's body lay in the casket, and stopped in the doorway my heartbeat pounding in my ears. This was it.
I wiped away the tears that were sliding down my cheeks in a seemingly unstoppable flow and moved forward hesitantly, my eyes settled on Jordan's calm face. When I was next to the coffin, I could see that makeup had been applied to make him appear to have more color. I thought that was stupid, since he'd always been pale as death, even in life. I reached out a trembling hand and stroked his soft hair, the same way I had done a hundred times before. My fingers trailed to his cheek, but I quickly drew away. He was cold. Too cold.
"I miss you, J," I whispered, petting his hair again. "You haven't even been gone a week and I miss you so much..." If I had had more words to say, they would have been lost. My shoulders shook as I leaned against the casket, trying and failing to hold myself together. I felt a hand on my shoulder and spun quickly around to see Novak. He was smiling sadly.
"You did good, Bam," he said gently, pulling me into his arms. "You did good."
The ride home was unbearably awkward. Ape was trying to grill me for information ("I had no IDEA you loved him that way! Why didn't you say something? No wonder you've been so torn up about this!), Phil was trying to get her to pipe down, and Jess was just staring at me. Finally, fifteen minutes into the staring I snapped, "WHAT?!"
"You're gay!" Jess exclaimed. "All these years we've joked about it and you actually are gay!"
"Jess!" Ape shouted, turning around and looking at him sharply. "This is hardly the time for--"
"It's the perfect time! Bam just came out at a fucking FUNERAL!" Jess laughed. Ape sighed and turned around, covering her face with her hand.
"Look, I'm not gay, okay?" I said tartly, crossing my arms over my chest. "I loved Jordan, yeah. But he's the only one!" Jess wasn't convinced.
Neither was I.
That night, I climbed up on the roof and looked up at the clear night sky. I could see every star, and the moon shone bright straight overhead. It was fairly cold outside, but I hardly noticed. I was still wearing Ville's jacket, which was surprisingly warm. As I watched the skies, I heard singing down on the street. Remarkably good singing. I sat up and looked down past the streetlights and saw Ville. He was in the middle of the road, twirling around like a moron, singing "The One" by the fucking Backstreet Boys. He looked up at me, and even from far away, I could see him grinning. He waved at me and finished the song, his eyes never leaving mine.
"I'll be the one, to hold you, and make sure that you'll be all right... I'll be the one."
Maybe Jordan WASN'T the only one.